


Something for the Pain

by akitsuko



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Biting, Coming In Pants, First Kiss, First Time, Foot Massage, Idiots in Love, M/M, Making Out, Massage, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:02:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24309427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akitsuko/pseuds/akitsuko
Summary: Oswald takes a tumble, and Ed offers his services to help him feel better.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 15
Kudos: 136





	Something for the Pain

**Author's Note:**

> Dipping my toes into this fandom with a bit of smutty goodness.

It's all Oswald can do to hobble along without whimpering, one hand fastened to his cane and the other gripping tight to Ed's elbow. The pain is close to unbearable. As it is, his facial muscles are clenched into a grimace and he's breathing through gritted teeth, agony firing through him with every step. 

"Almost there, Oswald." Ed is calm at his side, attentive, patient. His voice is level and somehow not at all patronising, which makes it difficult for Oswald to feel as cross as he wants to. "Lean on me. Just a few steps further."

Oswald leans, but manages to roll his eyes anyway. More than anything, he wants to snatch his hand back from Ed's arm and storm away to recuperate in private, because the only thing worse than the pain right now is sheer embarrassment. He is the king of Gotham, for heaven's sake. He runs the entire city. Men twice his size tremble before his wrath. 

Yet here he is, almost incapacitated because of a single clumsy moment. It's a humiliation he could quite frankly do without. Worse still is that Ed is here to see him in this helpless state, behaving for all his professionalism like a concerned mother hen. 

Progress is slow, but the two of them finally make it across the room to Oswald's armchair, into which he collapses with a gasp of relief. His cane falls from his fingers to clatter on the floor. His limbs sag, exhausted, and his eyes close of their own accord. The pain remains, although lessened to more of a throbbing ache now that he isn't putting any weight on his bad leg; he feels like he can begin to regain a little dignity. He takes a breath, vaguely attuning to the sounds Ed makes as he moves around the room. 

He may not enjoy appearing weak in front of Ed, but he begrudgingly admits to himself that he's grateful for the assistance tonight. Ed's insistent presence is a comfort. 

When Oswald opens his eyes after a few more moments, Ed is carefully placing a large footstool in front of him. He sits on it so they are facing each other, their knees almost touching in the middle, and Oswald's breath hitches just slightly as he sees that Ed has removed his suit jacket and rolled his shirt sleeves up to his elbows. His gaze zeroes in, hands poised in the air, as Oswald again becomes the centre of his attention. "Let me take a look," he says, all business and authority. He reaches for Oswald's injured leg, but stops just short of touching, waiting instead for Oswald to comply. 

Well, as Oswald feels an awkward flush bloom across his cheeks, he decides that compliance can go to hell. "I'm not broken, Ed," he scowls, hoping that his blush will go unnoticed. "It was just a fall. I'll be fine."

"Yes, but it won't hurt to just let me check you over." Ed flashes him a grin, the one that always makes Oswald's insides go a bit funny, and pats the top of his own thigh. 

It takes Oswald a moment to move past that dazzling smile and realise what Ed is indicating. He narrows his eyes as he feels the colour intensify across his traitorous face. "Forget it. I'm not putting my foot in your lap."

Ed puts on his best long-suffering expression. "It won't take a moment. At least let me check that there aren't any obvious injuries. The angle of the fall and the amount of pain you're in both indicate that there could be more damage than you realise." He pats his leg again, meeting Oswald's glare head on. "Come on. If for no other reason than my own peace of mind."

Now that's not fair. Ed is playing dirty. He may not know the extent of Oswald's feelings towards him, but he's no doubt aware that Oswald is far more likely to oblige him a personal request than let him simply play doctor. 

It's a dangerous game to play. 

And it's not without a huff of indignation and a fair amount of apprehension that he, against his better judgement, lifts his leg to place his foot atop Ed's thigh. 

Immediately, his focus is on the soft yield of skin and firm muscle beneath his heel as Ed sets to work removing his shoe and sock, and then the glances of Ed's fingers against his leg as he rolls Oswald's trouser leg up to his knee. He feels oddly exposed, his least favourite body part bared and on display for Ed's attention. Ed carefully takes his foot in his hands, turning it this way and that, inspecting, and if he's put off by the visibly poor job his injury did of healing, he doesn't show it. 

After the initial look, Ed gets a little more physical. His fingers press their way gently from Oswald's toes to his knee, watching Oswald for signs of discomfort. Then he feels his way back down again, applying gentle pressure to muscles and bones, manually flexing the foot at the ankle, pulling his toes one at a time. His hands never leave Oswald's skin, and Oswald feels electric wherever they touch. He tries to relax, but tension is strung throughout him, his gaze fixed on every movement Ed makes, the sensation of fire at each and every point of contact. 

He realises that, at some point, he's started holding his breath, and attempts to force himself to breathe normally. 

Ed shifts where he's sitting, and Oswald expects that this examination is over, but instead of releasing his leg, Ed begins to make his movements more prolonged. He presses his thumbs rhythmically into the arch of Oswald's foot, fingers wrapped around his instep and stroking gently. Oswald can't help but curl his toes, and he doesn't miss the quirk of Ed's lips in response. 

"I thought this was a quick once-over?" Oswald attempts to sound petulant, but is dismayed when the words come out as more of a hushed murmur. 

Ed meets his gaze over the top of his glasses, his hands continuing their motions, his grin widening enough to be obvious. "Massage will help to alleviate the strain around your joints, as well as lessening your pain. I've already got you. What's a few more minutes?" 

Oswald can't find the will to argue. The press of Ed's thumbs really does feel good, and he already feels like he might die if Ed stops touching him. So he shuts up and allows Ed to continue uninterrupted. 

It seems that Ed is as meticulous about massage as he is about everything else in his life. He pays careful attention to every area of tightness he finds under his fingers, alternating light strokes and deeper pressure. He's gentler but no less attentive around the ankle joint, testing its give in different directions, and gradually moving up to dig into the meat of Oswald's calf. He's steady and patient, and he seems to know exactly how hard to press before the pleasant soreness becomes actual pain. 

Oswald's eyes slip shut, and he catches himself just in time to bite back a moan. It feels achingly intimate to have Ed's hands on him like this, confident and skilled, to know that Ed cares about him enough to do this for him. 

"How is it?" Ed asks, and Oswald opens his eyes to find Ed looking at him. 

"It's… not awful, I'll admit." It's an understatement; Oswald is utterly transfixed and wishes this would never have to end. Ed gazing up at him, touching him, showing him a level of consideration and (dare he think it?)  _ affection _ that he never expected to receive from anyone. 

Ed smirks a little, dragging his fingers slowly down Oswald's calf in a motion more akin to a caress than anything else, stilling them momentarily when they reach the bones of his ankle. 

There's a sudden and unexpected depth to the moment, each of them staring into the eyes of the other, maintaining a physical connection that neither seems willing to break. And Oswald isn't stupid. He can see his own emotions being reflected right back at him, and he realises that he has to seize this opportunity before the moment passes. 

"Ed," he says, his voice sounding gravelly to his own ears, "come here."

Ed seems more hesitant, less sure of himself, but he stands up anyway, bracing himself on the armrests of the chair as he leans into Oswald's space. His breath is hot, he's shaking ever so slightly. Oswald doesn't miss the movement of his Adam's apple as he swallows, or the way his gaze flits briefly to Oswald's lips. He could be mistaken, he could be reading the signs wrong. He's not exactly experienced when it comes to matters of the heart. But he also knows that nothing can be gained without courage. So he takes a breath and lifts his hand to press his thumb against Ed's lips. 

"Tell me you want this," he says, barely louder than a whisper. 

Ed closes how eyes, tongue darting out to lick his lips, grazing the pad of Oswald's thumb as it does so. He inches closer, eyes opening again halfway as he replies, "There's nothing I want more, Oswald." 

They close the remaining distance together, lips meeting in the middle, a chaste and gentle brush that has Oswald gasping, pulling back slightly, searching Ed's face for certainty. "Ed, I…" 

He trails off, and Ed leans back in, kissing him again with a passion that, this time, Oswald can feel. He pushes back against Ed, willing his emotions to be felt through the act and hoping Ed can tell how much he means this. Their enthusiasm mounts, mouths opening, tongues touching, Ed licking into his mouth like a man starving. Oswald is on fire, a delicious heat curling in the pit of his belly as he touches his fingertips to Ed's jawline, and he gratefully swallows the keening whimper that rises out of Ed's throat in response. He's only vaguely aware of the muffled groans coming out of his own mouth. He won't pull back, never; he could do this until he dies, and Ed seems equally determined to eat him alive. 

Before long, Ed climbs up to straddle his lap in the chair, knees pinned either side of Oswald's hips, long fingers buried and tugging at Oswald's hair, nails scratching at his scalp in a way that feels absolutely divine. Oswald's lips are tingling, and he can't seem to settle his hands. They touch Ed everywhere they can reach, feeling his pulse thrumming in his neck, raking up and down his back, daring even to drop lower and clutch at the soft flesh of his backside. 

Ed breaks the kiss with a sharp gasp, his body practically vibrating in Oswald's lap, and Oswald drinks in the sight of him, flushed and dishevelled and almost dazed. It's a sight he never intends to forget. If he could only have it photographed and hung above his bed…

The thought of 'bed', and all its sexual connotations, sends a rush of blood to his groin. 

"Oswald…" Ed grinds out. He sounds utterly wrecked, and Oswald feels a surge of pride that this is his own doing. "I'm too… We shouldn't.. I can't, I'm…" 

Oswald watches him, the overwhelming cloud of joy clearing a little as Ed appears to become frustrated with his own inability to put together a sentence. Despite their positions and the all-too-eager kisses they have thus far shared, a stab of paranoid fear begins to coil in Oswald's stomach, and he pulls back enough to see Ed with better clarity. He clears his throat. "This isn't what you wanted?" 

"What? No!" Ed snaps quickly, before shaking his head. "I mean, yes. I mean, it's not you. You're perfect. It's me, I don't want to lose control and take this too far. I haven't… Not since…" 

His words seem to jumble together. Oswald takes a breath. "How far is too far?" 

Ed leans forward until their foreheads touch. "For me? It doesn't exist. I would do anything for you, I want to give everything to you. I want to touch you and taste you and smell you. I want to burn my name into you. I want to devour you and ruin you. I want to take you apart and savour you. I want-" 

He cuts himself off, eyes widening as his brain seems to catch up with his mouth. Pink tinges his cheeks as his brow furrows, embarrassment written all over his face. He averts his gaze and swallows hard. 

Oswald's own brain has short-circuited. All he can do is gape like a fool. 

Ed tries again. "Oh dear, that was, erm, more than I intended to share. I understand if you don't-" 

"Yes," Oswald blurts. "Yes to all of that."

He drags Ed back down to kiss him again. Ed's hands leave his hair to work on his waistcoat and shirt buttons, deft and efficient, palms smoothing over his chest. Oswald arches up into the touch, keening as Ed breaks away to trail wet lips along his jaw and down his neck, to sink his sharp teeth into the delicate flesh he finds there. Now Oswald moans loudly, the pain mingling beautifully with pleasure. He digs his fingers into Ed's skin, clutching tightly at his hip bones, trying to pull him down, closer, needing more. More contact, more Ed. 

Ed complies, dropping his weight a little as his fingers hook into Oswald's waistband, and a shudder simultaneously pulses through them both as their clothed erections grind together for the first time. Stars burst behind Oswald's eyelids. He mindlessly thrusts upwards, blindsided by the realisation that he's never felt anything like this before. The delightful sounds coming from Ed spur him on, making no effort to stop his own desperate whines as he throws his head back. He's hurtling rapidly towards the edge, he can feel it, and somewhere in the back of his mind he wonders if he ought to try to have a bit of stamina, but the more primal and very-much-in-control part of his brain registers Ed rutting just as wildly against him. Handsome, brilliant Ed, hard for him and wanting him, and it's the most intoxicating experience he could imagine.

"Ed," he pants breathlessly, barely aware of his own words as he babbles. "Please, don't stop, oh god, oh god, need you, Eddie please-" 

Ed licks up the side of Oswald's neck, meeting his mouth in a hard and sloppy kiss, biting his bottom lip. Oswald almost screams as he comes, hips stuttering uncontrollably as the rest of his body spasms and he's honestly not sure if this will be the end of him. 

He comes back to himself in time to see Ed's gaze fixed on him like a man enchanted, a hand working furiously inside his own pants as he brings himself off to Oswald, debauched and in the throes of orgasm. It doesn't take him long to get there himself, his eyes glazing over as he loses his rhythm and a deep moan is torn from his throat. Oswald can only watch, the privilege of being able to see this not lost on him, as Ed's movements gradually slow and eventually stop altogether. They breathe heavily together, sharing the same hot air, reluctantly coming back down to earth. 

Ed is the first to clear his throat, pulling his hand free, and Oswald is riveted to the sight of unmistakable translucent stickiness coating his fingers. It's enough to distract him from the uncomfortable feeling of his own ejaculate cooling inside his underwear. Ed doesn't seem to know what to do with his hand, looking at it with a lost expression before finally opting to wipe it off on his shirt. 

He meets Oswald's gaze then, and neither of them speak as the magnitude of what they've just done begins to become apparent. There's no going back from this, Oswald realises. Not that he would want to. He is powerless to deny his own heart, and he's sure of what he wants. Ed is the one holding their fate in his palm; his behaviour now will determine how they move forward. 

The wait, though only a few seconds, oppresses Oswald like a crushing weight to his chest. 

Then Ed laughs. Not a mocking laugh, nor a manic one, but a free laugh, a release of emotion. He rights his glasses, which must have been knocked askew at some point, and smiles so fondly at him that Oswald feels his heart might burst. "Please say we can do that again."

And Oswald laughs too. He can't help it. He feels his eyes watering with bliss and he chokes out his reply, "As soon as possible."


End file.
